


Post-Blast

by Usedtobehmc



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Body Horror, Character Death, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Permanent Injury, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usedtobehmc/pseuds/Usedtobehmc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Engineer and the other Mercs recover after a devastating battle and a crippling loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post-Blast

**Author's Note:**

> Engineer and the other Mercs recover after a devastating battle and a crippling loss. Heed the tags, y'all.  
> Inspired by these absolutely amazing videos by Condoriano on youtube. You should probably watch them before you read this or you might be a bit lost. 
> 
> Part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ztA2WQJv2c  
> Part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3FaR4bUVHk

 

 

It won't do a lick of good to lie to myself; things aren't good.  I don't even know how I'd put a positive spin on this even if I wanted to lie to myself, honestly.  Where's the silver lining?  What's the good news in the face of the bad news?  Looking around the room, I can't think of even one good thing to say.  

 

They Heavy woke up after the battle and got his strength back pretty quickly.  That didn't really surprise me; it's the way he's made.  He won't stay down until he's dead.  All it took was a hearty, meat-filled sandwich and he was up and walking around like he didn't just get pummeled by a concussive beam not 24 hours earlier.  

 

Soldier has his same ol' spirit, but his bones aren't like Heavy's, unfortunately.  His hand is all broke to hell and his leg ain't much better.  But he's awake and using crutches at least.  Those medi-packs ain't useless yet.  Good thing, cuz they're the best things we got going for us right now.  My dispensers don't have much power, but they do work.  For now.  Just… very slowly.  You can go ahead and read that as "useless in battle" if you like.  It's the truth, anyway.  

 

Demo is exhausted, anyone can see that, but he keeps tellin' us he's fine.  I almost had to punch him in the head to get him to lie down.  He hemmed and hawed all the way, but soon as his head hit the pillow he was out like a light.  He slept for 14 straight hours and woke up sore as hell, but at least he got some rest.  Still, he's weakened, he can barely lift his own arms to feed himself.  I can tell he wants nothing more than to get stinkin' drunk, but the booze supply depleted pretty quickly after communications got cut off.  He's thinking about Scout.

 

Poor Scout.  That boy… that boy saved our lives.

 

Demo doesn't want to talk about it.  Hell, I wouldn't either, if I was in his shoes.  Truth is, if Demo hadn't done what he did, we'd all be dead right now.  What choice did he have?  

 

Medic made a similar choice a week ago and paid for it with his life.  Bought us time, allowed us to escape with our lives and our limbs.  I ain't never seen Heavy so upset.  Grown man weeping silently in the back of the truck, it was a sight that damn sure broke my heart to see.  We did our best to comfort the poor fella, but what can you say about something like that?  We figured sayin' nothing was better than sayin' something stupid.  We just… tried to be there for him.  

 

He still has a fire in his belly, and determination out the wazoo… but I have a feelin' when this is over, if he lives to see the end of the war, he'll just give up.  

 

I don't like to think like that.  Maybe his family will be enough to keep him on Earth.  I hope so.  

 

The alarm goes off and I almost spit, cuz god damn, more robots already?  But it's not robots, it's Pyro and Spy, finally back from the recon mission they set out on a week ago.  The stolen van rumbles across the desert, leaving a giant cloud of dust and sand behind it.  Thing looks like it's falling apart, but I can definitely see the two of them in the front seats.  Alive and kickin'.  I open the garage for them and make sure they're safely inside before I hit the button that'll close it behind them.  

 

When they walk in to the main room, I damn near faint dead away.  They're both dusty and looking pretty beat up, but Holy Mary, Mother of Jesus.  Spy's entire left arm is off.  It's gone, it's just… he lost his arm.  His suit jacket's sleeve hangs limply from his shoulder, and he's pinned it up to keep it from swinging around.  

 

"Spy, what in tarnation--"

 

"A Demo-bot," he replies, and his voice sounds so tired and ragged, it's almost unrecognizable.  "They are using sticky bombs now."  His expression is dark and distant.  Maybe it's shock.  

 

"I hope this ain't a dumb question, but how are you even walkin' around right now?"  

 

He fumbles with retrieving a cigarette from it's case and lights it, all with one hand.  "It turns out, our Pyro is a very talented field medic.  Lucky for me."  

 

Pyro keeps his gaze at the floor.  If… if Pyro even is a 'he.'  If anything, this'll teach me not to assume anything about that firebug anymore.  Anyhow, Pyro looks at the floor and says nothing.  

 

"We also found some medi-packs.  They helped stop the bleeding, cover the wound.  Unfortunately, they can only do so much."  He glances around the room and notices who's missing.  Immediately, his expression changes and it's a sight to see; that hardened killer, unflappable in the face of danger, looking so steamrolled at the revelation that we've lost some men since we last saw him.  

 

He takes a deep, shuddery breath and I decide to just go ahead and lay it all out there.  No sense in making the man ask.

 

"We lost the Medic not long after y'all left: he stayed behind as a distraction so we could get out.  We've sorta been gettin' our asses handed to us since then.  Had a big run-in with a tank and a giant Heavy-bot yesterday, been 'bout 24 hours since.  We uh---"  Damn it, now is not the time to lose it, Dell.  Pull yourself together, ain't no time to fall apart.  "We lost Scout.  Boy got all hopped up on his enhancement drinks and put himself right under the god-damn payload bomb.  Held it there until Soldier and Demo could get close enough to help but… there was no way for him to get away in time.  

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Demo hang his head.  

 

Pyro sags with the weight of the news.  Pyro never much cared for Medic, but that didn't make the news any easier, I'm sure.  But Scout, Scout was pretty close with the Pyro.  They used to watch Saturday morning cartoons and whatnot.  Eat all sorts of sugary crap when the care packages came in.  Pyro goes to sit at the dining table and makes soft noises that I'm sure come from crying.  

 

Spy is barely keeping it together, and damn me, I'm selfish enough to hope he doesn't start crying cuz that would set me right off.  "Where is he?"  He asks, and I know who he means right away.

 

"He's alive, Spy.  We just… we just don't know how long…"

 

"That's not what I asked," Spy interrupts me and his voice sounds a little bit like his old self.  "I asked you where he is.  What happened?  What did you _let happen_ to him?"

 

Wasn't expecting that, but maybe I should have.  Before he and Pyro went on the recon mission, Spy had asked me to keep an eye on Sniper.  Something about him being more self-destructive than usual.  I hadn't thought much of it at the time, but it's all becoming pretty clear to me now.  A little snippet of a memory comes back, all the times those two have come to breakfast together, when their rooms weren't anywhere near each other.  

 

"Slow your roll there, Spy, lemme explain.  If it weren't fer him we'd all be dust right now, vaporized beyond recognition.  Hell, this building wouldn't still be here if not for him.  I tried to stop him from puttin' himself in the line of fire but he clocked me good and solid 'cross the face."  I pointed to my jaw, which was swollen and a bit purple.  Still hurt like a sumbitch, too.  

 

Spy is boiling, I can tell he wants to hit me.

 

"He ain't in any condition to talk right now, Spy.  The bots, they… they got him pretty good.  Didn't stop him from takin' the Big Bad out, though.  You shoulda seen it."

 

I think of the explosion, the colors, the sounds… like the world was ending.  

 

Honestly, I can't tell if I'm makin' it better or worse.  "He's in the infirmary.  We about out of medi-packs, but the dispenser is… I mean he's not _worse_ …"

 

"Shut up," he spits, and pushes past me, bumping me with his good shoulder.  "I told you to look after him."

 

"Ach, now come on lad," Demo weakly interrupts, but I hold a hand up to stop him.  

 

I'm a grown man, I ain't delicate, and I can take my licks when they're deserved.  I don't say anything but I lead him to the infirmary where we've been trying to save Sniper.  

 

Spy glances into the room and frowns, tossing his cigarette down the hall before going in.  I can't bring myself to go in with him; just seems to me like they could use some alone time, even if Sniper's out cold.  

 

After the dust had settled, Demo had carried Sniper back to the base.  It was an awful sight; Sniper leaking buckets of blood all over the place, pale as moonlight, head bobbing around like a child's toy.  He'd used the last of his strength to fire off that one bullet that saved us all.  He hadn't been coherent since, no matter what we did.  

 

I peek in and see Spy leaning in close to Sniper.  So close that he must have been kissin' him.  I turn away.

 

I was raised in a proper Christian household I suppose.  My Pop said that two men together was an abomination and he wouldn't trust a faggot far as he could throw him.  Hell, that just never sat right with me.  There are many similarities between me and my Pop; I got my smarts and my looks from him.  But I was more like my Momma in temperament, you could say.  She had a mean streak, but she was always fair.  She said to me, "It don't _matter_ what your Pa thinks: what matters is what Jesus thinks.  Jesus says love your neighbor and that was the end of it.  Weren't no ifs and or buts about it.  The lord deals in absolutes and love means love."

 

Pop was an Old Testament kinda Christian.  Momma was more into the New.    

 

I don't know what either of them would have said to me if I told them that I didn't rightly believe there _was_ anyone up there in the first place.  I think they'd both be heartbroken.  But neither of them have seen what I've seen.  Maybe they'd understand.  Maybe my Pop would even understand why I'd give anything to ensure that Spy and Sniper leave this thing alive and together.  I want them to have that.  There aren't many things I've ever wanted more in this life.  

 

If I could bring myself to pray, I'd ask god to let Ms. Pauling somehow get us access to the respawn again.  If she could only manage that… anyhow.  That's what I'd pray for.  Only it strikes me as a mite hypocritical to ask something of a god I don't even believe in anymore.  

 

I guess we can just sit here and hope.  And fight.  And stick together.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
